The Crafter
by ajb2
Summary: AU. A young Harry Potter lives in London and works for the famous wand maker Ollivander. Adventures ensue.


**Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, go figure.**

" **AU. In a dark and violent world, Harry Potter makes his way through life. **

**A/N:** After reading all of my life, I decided I want to write, so I am now writing. Fan fiction seemed like a good place to start, I already have characters and plots to work with, and a bunch of people giving helpful reviews (yes, that was a hint to give a helpful review). Considering this is my first time writing creatively and that this piece is un-betaed, please remember that while reviewing and feel free to criticize every inch of this story. Thank you for your help and support.

**The Beginning **

Tom Riddle was a magical prodigy. In a world where wizards had work day in and day out to become powerful, Riddle soared by the most intimidating wizards and witches of the day. He quickly mastered the arts of dueling, transfiguration, charms, and then, to the amazement of wizarding society, made progress in the long lost art of warding. He was praised as a future leader, and as a pioneer that would advance a long stagnant period of magical growth. His teacher, the well renowned Albus Dumbledore, couldn't have been more pleased with his pupils achievements. Unfortunately, all good things eventually come to an end, and Tom Riddle was no exception. Trying to advance his studies he ignored his mentor's warnings and traveled to the far north. A place that was said to be the root of chaos in the world, where demons could reach out and touch the mortal plane. Here, he there hoping to expand his power and to gain more experience with the most advanced forms of magic. He did. He came back a twisted man. Once feeling the power of beyond this world his thirst could not be sated. He came back and seduced many powerful and cunning wizards and witches into followers quickly, offering empty promises of otherworldly power, mystery, and greatness. Quickly gathering a powerful and loyal force he began taking control of the world around him. Forcing frightened mundanes to fight for his cause by the thousands, he caused a vast amounts of destruction. His sudden reversal from glorified prodigy to Dark Lord caught the world by surprise, but the people of Britain eventually banded together to fight off this burgeoning threat. Taking heavy casualties, the newly created Order of the Phoenix led the fight against the Dark Lord, who had renamed himself Voldemort. Led by Voldemort's old mentor, the great Albus Dumbledore, the Order was able to slow down the advance of the Dark Lord. Unfortunately no one could not stop him. While handling his loyal followers and mundane grunts with ease, the orders best fighters could not contend with the Dark Lord himself. He killed the well renowned Order Members Lily Potter, a famed charms Mistress, Filius Flitwick, a master dueler, and legendary Marauder Sirius Black. Eventually, after many months of fighting, Voldemort was able to gravely injure Dumbledore with dark, otherworldly magic when he finally confronted his old mentor in the midst of battle . Voldemort was afraid though. Knowing that Dumbledore only had a few weeks left to live, the Dark Lord feared that the very knowledgeable and powerful old man might do something rash. Knowing this he hunted feverishly to find the Order's main base, hoping to kill his teacher quickly before he was attacked, and to end resistance once and for all. And then, on a cold and rainy All Hallows Eve, a rat ratted, and he found it.

* * *

James Potter fought for his life. Ten minutes earlier the Wards around the Potter's Residence, also the meeting place for the Order, crashed in a spectacular fashion. Thankfully for James, most of the Order was staying at the Potter house, preparing for an ambush the next week. The greatly respected Albus Dumbledore, who was considered the second most powerful wizard in the world, was resting in the rooms upstairs after being cursed with the most powerful of Dark magics. James was worried for Dumbledore. He always considered the older man a bit ... odd, but recently Dumbledore was acting even more eccentric. He was heard muttering under his breath, and demanding that no one entered his room. The curse was not supposed to have those side effects, so naturally the Order was worried that Dumbledore was cracking in the face of eminent death. James was also worried for his young 2 years old son, Harry. If he did not live, he would never see him again. He sent him away to stay safe hidden among the muggles in London. The town was far from any conflict, and Lily's relatives, oh how James missed his wife, lived there.

The _whoosh_ of a chair flying past his head refocused him on his surroundings. Time slowed. The world exploded. The grunts of exertion and quick footsteps stood out stark from the silence around them. The soft shuffling of leather boots frantically sliding, rang clearly in his ears. Bright neon streams flashed against the walls, illuminating the cloaked humps flopped on the floor, the blood and body oils soaking the walls, and a charred and slashed arm flying through the air.

These wizards weren't screwing around.

Sending a steel shard straight through an unaware enemy's back, James Potter refocused on his own fight, barely dodging a group of cobras shot hissing through the air. Stumbling, he flicked his hand back behind him and quickly incinerated the cobras. Throwing his hand forward he magically hurtled them back at his opponent.

Voldemort laughed, "Well done James, you made this more of a challenge than I ever had anticipated."

The Dark Lord paused, "you know you will never win, you could never win, this is just..." another pause, "fun"

James roared, firing of a salvo of searing deadly attacks. Voldemort casually flicked them aside, chuckling all the while. "Fighting to the end I see, just like your beautiful wife..." another long pause,"I admit, I will enjoy your death Potter" The Dark Lord drew back his wand and fired a green jet of death.

And James Potter was no more.

"So brave", murmured Voldemort, almost looking sad to a person who did not know his twisted heart. Standing still amongst the chaos of clashing Death Eaters and Order Members, Voldemort slowly turned, scanning the room . The Death Eaters were starting to loose. Rosier, one of their strongest duelers, was overrun by the combined onslaught of Mad-eye and Frank Longbottom, the Auror. The Dark Lord look on uncaring, and then grinned, an eerie sight missed among the chaos, and strode ominously up the stairs of Godric's Hallow. Soon no one could stop his hunt for power. Taking measured strides across the wet floor, the Dark Lord reached the stairs and calmly started ascending. His feet fell silently on the stairs, sinking into in the soft plush carpet with each step. At the top of the stairs there was a hall linked to the upstairs bedrooms. A light _creeped_ out of the last room on the left, betraying the occupants location. Dumbledore was going to die. The Long quick strides of the Dark Lord covered the hall in seconds. Throwing the door open Voldemort laughed, glancing at the huge four posted bed slayed out in the middle. No one was there. "Old fool, your games our over. You are weak. I am Strong." the Dark Lord almost growled then and said "It is my turn to teach".

"Oh Tom" Dumbledore spoke from behind the door Voldemort threw open, "you will find I have one more lesson to teach"

There was light. Blinding, all consuming, pure, blinding, white. And the world exploded.

* * *

_12 Years Later_

It was still dark when he awoke that morning. Long before the sun would start to rise, and long before the people of London would file out of their homes' to meet the painful reality of life . Quietly Harry got up and slipped on his clothes, and, after grabbing a familiar slender stick, rushed outside into the awaiting darkness. After all, being late on day one of his new job would not leave a good first impression.

As he quickly paced down the cobblestone road he glanced at his watch."Oh shit", Harry mumbled, rushing the last few steps before swinging open the door. He carefully stepped inside the warm room. It smelled old and distinguished. The waft of burning wood, the quiet crackling of a soft fire, and the warm lights flickering across the walls breathed comfort into the room. Noticing the room was empty he sighed in relief and plopped down in a nearby chair.

"Ah..,"

Harry spun around and faced the older man with a yell

"...I see that you have finally arrived"

Left speechless, Harry mumbled "uh"

"Lets not make that a habit, I assure you that we will work late enough already. Agreed?"

"uh, yessir, sorry sir, um, I mean I'm sorry for being late Mr. Ollivander."

"I know" said Ollivander, walking across the old wooden floor into the backroom. Harry didn't move, unsure. Peeking his head back through the down Ollivander raised an eyebrow, "Are you coming Mr. Potter, this store doesn't exactly run itself you know."

**Thanks for Reading. A review would be very much appreciated and would help my writing improve. **

**Thank you,**

**_Ajb_  
**


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